“Keep the change, and have a great day, Sadia.” I wink and turn for the exit, desperate for air to snap me out of whatever just happened.
The second I’m back inside my vehicle, I’m able to breathe more clearly as I take the first sip of my drink.
“Mm. Damn, Sadia.” I shake my head and pull out of my spot so I can make it to work on time.
I’m a parole officer and genuinely love what I do. I love doing my part to rehabilitate the individuals who realize the error of their ways. Not every person who ends up in jail wants to be there. I also recognize that not every person given anopportunity to regain their freedom intends to change. But the men and women on my current roster seem to want to do the right things.
I enjoy assisting the newly released citizens of Kaigood, Ohio, in returning to civilian life without a hitch. I love my hometown that’s the perfect blend of small-town city living and black excellence. Kaigood also has a black mayor, police and fire chief, and some politicians which allows our youth to see themselves as anything they want to be in this life. Kaigood is an hour and fifteen minutes from Columbus and thirty minutes from Ribax, which sometimes become mini getaway places for me due to their close proximity and short travel time. My phone rings around the interior, and a frown forms upon seeing the caller.
“What’s up, bro?” I say once the call connects.
“Don’t be sounding all dry, nigga. But since you like to forget things, I’m the person assigned to keeping you on task. I hope you don’t think we’re playing with your lying behind. If this mystery woman of yours isn’t with you, you will be on a return flight home,” my best friend, Morris, says deadpan.
A sigh escapes me because this has been the ongoing conversation for the last few months, and it’s exhausting. Every year, my friend circle goes on a couple’s trip, and I have been sliding in without a mate. However, this year, my friends call themselves putting their feet down. They have demanded that I either show up with my woman in tow or not at all. The problem with such a command is that I’m as single as a dollar bill. I have avoided the topic for the last month, but now it’s two weeks until we depart, and nothing on my end has changed.
But my friends are adamant about not letting me join them. Under pressure, I lied and said I’m dating someone who can’t wait to join me for the trip. The thing about lies is that once told, more have to be told to keep it going. I have no idea what I’m about to do to solve this problem. Plans have been made,deposits have been paid, a room has been secured, and a car rental has been arranged. But the woman to accompany me is only known to God.
Another dilemma is when Morris told me what had to happen for me to go on the trip, my mind instantly went to Sadia. Why? Again, only God knows, because I don’t know that woman beyond my admiration for her personality, body type, and ability to make a caffeinated beverage.
“Man, why are you breathing so heavy?” Morris’s question shifts my mind back to the conversation at hand.
Man, I stepped into a pool that’s about to drown me. That’s why.
“Ain’t nobody breathing like that. You also don’t have to keep calling me with the same thing. I know what I have to do.” I grumble.
“Good. I can’t wait to meet the woman who got you to lower your guard. The last time you introduced us to a woman, she offered to put us in a circle so she could perfect her dick sucking skills.”
“Don’t remind me. Damn, good women are hard to come by.” I shake my head at the thought of my ex jump-off, Sonequa.
She’s the reason my friends have placed me in this predicament to begin with. I made the mistake of taking Sonequa on one of our trips two years ago, and after getting drunk, she lost her marbles. I have been trying to fly solo on these trips since then, just because of the scars she left behind. Sonequa and I were never more than fuck buddies, but she embarrassed the hell out of me.
“What’s this one’s name? You ain’t told us nothing about her.”
“On purpose. Y’all ain’t about to judge her prematurely. You’ll meet her firsthand, and we can go from there.”
Not to mention, I have to figure out who I can get to come with me. Never in my life has this been my life. What the hell am I about to do?
“Oh, I see you have this one a little more protected. That’s good. We’ll have plenty of time to interrogate her. I’m gone.” Morris disconnects the call before I have a chance to respond.
My conversation with Morris replays in the back of my mind all day, to the point of frustration, as I try to figure out who can accompany me. I need a woman who can hold her own around my friends. One who is not only beautiful but also has enough substance to keep my friends off my back and me interested in the alone time we’ll have to spend together. I also need a woman who won’t bore me to tears and can offer a meaningful connection that doesn’t look forced. A woman who . . .
Sadia.
My mind echoes the name like a megaphone and halts my thoughts like a train that crosses an intersection with steady flowing traffic.
“Okay. Maybe I’ll go by and ask her. What’s the worst that can happen?”
She will turn you down, and then you’re back at square one.
That thought has a tingle of apprehension in the pit of my stomach. But I shake it off and talk myself into going for it anyway. Sadia and I are at least acquainted, so it wouldn’t be uncomfortable. I also believe she has the potential to fulfill what I need to pull this thing off. I have also covered all expenses, so she wouldn’t have to do anything but take a free trip. It’s easy and not financially burdensome for her, given the late offer. Now, I just have to return to Sips of D’Essence after work and pray she agrees to my invitation.
Same Day,Another Time . . .
I’m tired, tear-jerking fatigue, but I don’t have time to succumb to it. I also have to keep going without giving time to the emotions that often want to swallow me. I am the daughter of Lewis Richardson, who has always been a pillar of strength. His example is why I push forward when I want to throw in the towel. My mother committed suicide while suffering from postpartum depression when I was two months old, which left Dad alone to raise me.
My work ethic comes from Dad. All my life, I have seen him hustle to make ends meet and take care of me. Dad has worked two jobs ever since I could understand what it meant to go to work. Dad’s dedication to doing what he has to do is why I try towork while I maintain my course load. The only thing Dad hasn’t successfully passed down to me is his ability to surrender to the full magnitude of love.
My mother’s death changed and hardened him in a way that he refuses to give anyone the opportunity to have his last name other than me. If only I could carve out time to slow down and focus on something other than school and work, that is. Why I waited so long to pursue my master’s degree is anyone’s guess. But here I am, thirty, and in the thick of my attempt at making the mother I never met proud.
